


It's Only Dancing

by sing-me-a--song (Cross3steel)



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M, also asshole hans, does that need to be warned, features onesided anna/kristoff sorta, i just love this song and i read like 15 different frozen fics this week, mainly cause of oblivious anna, may cause feels, so blame it on that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2306573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cross3steel/pseuds/sing-me-a--song
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've never slow danced with anyone before." She whispers, sounding content. He smiles and thinks, <em>that's right. It's only dancing.</em></p>
<p>(modern AU based on the Jeremy Messersmith song of the same name)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Only Dancing

This is the third time she's called him after ten, and he's out the door by the time she gets out a few words. He's ditched her again, of course. Mr. Perfect isn't so amazing after all. He wished her boyfriends problem was something stupid, something idiotic, anything but him leaving her every few days, disappearing right when she needs him. The loner in him wishes her sister would do something, so he wouldn't feel this gnawing need to be there for her. But her sister is the head of the biggest appliance company in the world and though he knows they loves each other, Elsa has always been distance. Anna is good at laughing it off, joking that her sibling just has a weird thing with germs and people, but she did the same thing when Hans left her at the end of the first football game. She'd been waiting outside their school for hours, he knew.

_"Hey, excuse me?" She was yelling at him, running through the empty parking lot, holding her green pleated skirt to keep it from flying up. "Hi, are you going towards the north side?"_  
 _"No, I'm not." He drives a beat up pickup truck, not a Lexus or Mercedes._  
 _She moves into his line of sight again. "Well, which way are you going?" Her voice is so sweet._  
 _"Not the same way, trust me." He opens up his door and she's there again. "I don't take people places."_  
 _"It's just, everyone's gone home and my boyfriends, Hans, he's the kicker on the football team, he had to go, there's this thing. And my sister, she's not answering her phone as per usual, and I told her I'd be home by nine, and it's almost midnight and she already didn't want me to come-”_  
 _"Get in." If he gave her a ride, she would stop talking to him and he could get home to his bed and Sven and quiet._  
 _"Ooooo, is that a guitar? Do you play? I sing, Hans and I sometimes sing duets, it's the best." He moves the guitar from the passenger side and wonders if it would be rude to just leave her here even after he said he would help._

And that was the pattern they fell into. Every Friday since the beginning of the season, she'd sat in his passenger seat and eventually she moved beyond talking about Hans, to her sister to asking him about his family, and she'd met Sven. And then Hans had started this habit of leaving her on dates, disappearing without warning, stranding her in restaurants and on street corners. This time it was a bistro, only a few blocks from her house, _more like manor_ , but he knows, she hates being alone after he leaves. So he drives all the way across town, leaving Sven whimpering at the door.  
"Hey, I'm here, whoa there." She's already hugging him. She's tiny in comparison to him, only coming up to his chest. He can't see her face, only the top of her head. "Come on, let's go." The waiters are staring at them and he suspects it's the fact that he's dressed in a flannel and not a suit. He keeps her tucked under his arm as they leave.  
She doesn't talk on the way back to her house. He watches her stare out the window, and wonders what she's thinking. If she wasn't with Hans, he would hold her hand.  
They stop at the end of the driveway and he waits for her to speak. She watches the empty dark house for a while and where normally she took the lead, he finally speaks.

"So, do you want me to...?"

"Yes. Please." She opens the door and starts towards the house.

Their house is so empty. Every room feels fake, tailored and manicured. The floors were too clean . It's nothing like his family home. He turns on the radio, desperate to fill the air with some sound. He wanders to the kitchen and finds her looking for food.  
"I know there's some carrots in here, just give me a second." He puts a hand on her shoulder and she turns. Her makeup is smudged, and she wipes her cheeks.  
Without thinking he pulls her into his arms. He holds his breath as she wraps her arms around him, feeling her warmth through her summer dress. He hears the radio and begins shuffling them to the living room. A slow song is playing, and they start swaying to the beat, vaguely. He's never done this with a girl, let alone with Anna, his only human friend. They keep moving, back and forth and he can feel her heartbeat, strong and steady. This is a precarious situation, he realizes, them, holding each other, alone in her house. If Elsa comes home or Hans suddenly appeared, he would be royally screwed. He tries to think of an alibi that doesn't implicate wrong doing on either of their parts when he feels Anna shift her hands up to his neck.  
"I've never slow danced with anyone before." She whispers, sounding content. He smiles and thinks, _that's right. It's only dancing._

He hates school functions, he's only here for her. She convinced him to drive her and Hans to prom and then bring her home. Elsa had only agreed to let her go as long as she was home by eleven and only in the brand new Lexus LS she'd borrowed to him for the night. Elsa had paid for everything, tux, ticket, even new dress shoes for him and he couldn't afford to turn down a nice meal and a chance to see Anna all dressed up.

She had not disappointed, wearing a beautiful green and black dress that made her look like something out a fairy-tale. Though the sight of her on Hans' arms made him feel a little queasy. It was hard, impossible to not hear the rumors about him and half the cheer-leading team. Anna was blissfully unaware and happy, so he left it. Who was he to impede on her happiness even if his heart skipped double time when she had insisted on a picture of them together. She was his friend, a good friend.

He waited in the car most of the night, listening to the radio, playing with the fancy controls on the car. He ignored the slow trickle of couples throughout the night focusing on the new toys. He sat in the car until, feeling anxious from staying in the same place for hours, he got out of the car . He watched his classmates leave, heading to their cars. It was around ten when he saw Hans leaving with several footballers. He watched him go, making eye contact for a moment. Hans winked, and Kristoff felt his stomach drop as Hans, Anna's one true love, her prince, jumped into the car, and put his arm around some girl that was not Anna. They drove off and Kristoff felt like throwing a punch, preferably in that liar's face. But for now he had bigger things to worry about.  
He pushes his way into the dance hall. The lights are still on and the mirrored ball on the ceiling sends small shimmering lights across the room. The band is still playing, and a few couples are dancing close, each looking involved in their own little bubbles. He looks around, scanning the tables for her. Just when he starts to wonder if he had been wrong, that maybe she had left with Hans or just after him, he spots her, sitting alone at a table, playing with her corsage.  
"Hey, feistypants. Want to get out this joint?" He cringes internally at his choice of words. _Joint, who the hell says joint? What is this the fifties?_

He stops berating himself, when he hears her giggle. She is smiling at him, and that is all that matters.

He jerks his head towards the door and offers her a hand.

She takes it and begins pulling him towards the dance floor. "What are you doing?"

"Just for kicks, come on, Kristoff, please?" She turns and gives him the big, blue puppy dog eyes that he's discovered make him do anything. He swallows and puts his big hand on her little hip and continues holding her hand. 

This is different then them dancing at her house alone to the radio, not in public to a silly cover band with other people around. He starts moving his feet slightly, and realizes that their hands are in an awkward position and it's probably not comfortable for her. He moves his hand slightly so their fingers are lace together. She settles against his chest, leaning on him with a sigh. He clenches his jaw and feels the sweat drip down his neck. _We're just friends, it's not like I'm not in love with her._ He wonders if other people are staring and he thinks, _nothing to see, because, its only dancing._

He feels tremendously under-dressed in his sweater vest and clip on tie. Anna is the perfect picture, hair up, under a beautiful white veil. Her dress is a family heirloom, white lace and silk. It's impossible not to be enraptured with her, and the room, crowded with business associates of Elsa's and some family members he's never seen before, parts before her. He has to remember to close his mouth. Elsa, tight lipped but smiling for her sister, passes her off to her perfect groom. They float around the room, looking more graceful then he thought possible for two people to look. He wants to scream, _he doesn't love you, it's fake, he's lied to you for so many years._ He tries not to look at her face, her eyes are big and adoring. He wonders how many times he could have stopped this, or why he never tried. He feels his chest tighten, his heart is about to burst. He leans against the wall. He knows he's the one to blame for this, but he can't handle that. So he blames the universe for this beautiful couple, this lie he's let exist. He has to look at her one more time, before he goes. And he does. They are gliding by him, Hans' hand on her hip, perfectly positioned for their first dance as husband and wife. And the three words he's said to himself over and over again in these last two years he whispers to himself.

"It's only dancing."


End file.
